


Friday's Home for Wayward Ficlets

by ourgirlfriday



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Again, Alternate Universe - Animals, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Multi, They are koalas and drop bears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:31:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourgirlfriday/pseuds/ourgirlfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of various and sundry wee fics from my Tumblr.  So far there's one with an mpreg and one with bad pickup lines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The one where Charles is knocked up

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this](http://seitou.tumblr.com/post/60531215095/sasheenka-are-you-coming-or-what-that-s-the) photoset

Charles stared woefully at the tiny plastic stick clutched in his hand. A plus sign showed clearly on the display, as it had the last three times. And the three before that. All in all, it seemed fairly conclusive. 

The tests were positive. Charles was pregnant. 

“Of course, these tests are only 99% accurate,” he muttered to no one as he paced from the bathroom to his bed. 

_Traitor_ , he thought dispassionately. It was his bed’s fault he was in this mess, after all. Well, his bed, fine scotch, and his new neighbor. His ridiculously attractive new neighbor, whom he had welcomed quite _vigorously_ to the building the month prior. 

And several times since, truth be told. Charles was nothing if not hospitable. 

He threw himself down on the large disheveled mattress and groaned piteously. They’d been safe. Mostly. Mostly safe. And he was on heat inhibitors. And his cycle was supposedly in the dead period. It shouldn’t have been possible. 

His phone chimed from his bedside table. A text. From Erik, that potent slag. _Feeling better? I have extra soup._

Charles snorted into his pillow. One of the benefits of telepathy, after all, was catching stray lines of thought from one’s potent slag of a…boyfriend? Fuckbuddy? Inadvertent baby making partner? From someone about making soup for Charles, the piteously indisposed. 

_GET UR ASS UP HERE_ he responded. He was in the family way, he could be indelicate if he so desired.

It could be worse, he mused as a sudden blare of alarm telepathically sounded from the floor below him. He hadn’t known Erik long, but he was playing for keeps this time. He thought Erik might be, too, judging from the way he held Charles gaze and the tenor of his thoughts while they fucked. Made love. Whatever. 

And he had tenure. Not that Columbia could get rid of him with Omega protection laws being what they were, but it was comforting all the same. Even if he chose to take a full semester off for paternal leave, his position would still be there the following term. 

Even without dipping into his, frankly incomprehensible, trust account he and the baby ( _and Erik please Erik want the same thing_ ) could live comfortably. He thought over the various child development articles he’d read recently as he tracked Erik’s bright mind bound up the stairs and tear down the hall to Charles’s apartment. 

“What is it,” Erik called as he came to a stop in Charles’s doorway, grasping lightly to the frame and good lord wearing only a towel. Charles flushed and raised an eyebrow.

“You could put on pants.”

“It seemed urgent. And you’re not wearing pants either.” Charles belatedly realized right. He wasn’t. Nothing like having serious, life changing conversations starkers. Maybe Raven was on to something.

“It’s positive,” he said, face crumbling because oh god what was he doing? He barely knew Erik. Even if he wanted something more than what they seemed to have going on, that was no guarantee Erik felt the same. Or that Erik wasn’t some Cassanova, knocking up poor disgraced omegas wherever he went, leaving a trail of poor bastards in his wake.

Right. Maybe time to back of the Mills and Boone. 

“Positive?” Erik hadn’t caught on. Charles sighed and worried about the man’s intelligence. _At least you’ll be pretty_ , he thought to his stomach.

“Pregnancy test. It’s positive. Well, they’re positive. I took seven. It doesn’t guarantee anything, mind you—”,

“You’re pregnant?” Erik breathed. He looked…happy. And that was nothing compared to his mind, which teemed with _JoyFamilyCharlesLoveLust_. Charles’s flush spread, down his chest. Erik’s grin broadened and took on a welcome seductive edge. 

“Yeah,” Charles answered feeling an answering grin break on his face as Erik crossed the room and pressed him back against his pillows, demonstrating how fully he approved of the turn of events. 

Maybe, he mused as Erik nipped at his lips, throat, neck, this won’t turn out so bad after all.


	2. The one with pickup lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles meets Erik. Charles uses pickup lines on Erik. Charles sometimes wishes he could stab his own brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off [this](http://frigde.tumblr.com/post/65508989002/x-and-x) photoset!
> 
> A big thanks to my leiblings Kargi, Roz, and Cat for assistance and betaing! Any leftover mistakes my own.

Charles made sure the bedroom door was closed behind him before he collapsed onto the bed. He slumped over and hit his head on his knee repeatedly.

“Are you made of Selenium and Xenon? I really asked him if he was made of Selenium and Xenon?!” he hissed at himself. His knee throbbed in sympathy.

Clearly, Raven was right. Charles was going to end up sad and alone with only his dusty books for company. Even cats would avoid him. He’ll have to become a crazy _pretend_ cat man.

He really shouldn’t be allowed in public.

In his defense, the man — Erik Lehnsherr, Erik _fucking_ Lehnsherr — was probably the most attractive person Charles had ever seen, and perhaps Charles could be forgiven for handsome-induced stupidity. Even memory Erik, leaning against the wall like a tall sexy…tall…thing was enough to mushify his brain. 

He could be forgiven for staring, surely. Even for approaching Erik, bounce in his step, certain that he’d come up with something sharp to woo the man. Something sexy and intriguing, something like “You must be a photon quanta to my valence electron because baby you excite me to a higher energy state.”

Erik looked at him bemusedly while Charles cursed his traitor brain. _Suave, brain. I said suave._ Still, Lehnsherr hadn’t taken off running, which was a good sign. He leaned next to Erik and batted his eyes and bit his lips. He’d had it on good authority that batting his eyes and biting his lips upped his fuckability factor tenfold. Stark had been so kind as to provide graphs and statistical analyses. Poor JARVIS had never been quite the same after that. 

“I’m Charles,” he murmured in what he hoped was a sensual manner. “Charles Xavier.”

“Erik Lehnsherr,” the man said. That was all the man said. Had Charles had any sense, he would have noticed that was not so much a hint as a blaring alarm complete with neon signs and flag semaphore. 

However, Charles did not have much sense. 

“Hey Erik, I’ve got so much potential energy stored away. Want to help me transform that into kinetic, sound and heat energy?” Lehnsherr raised one handsome eyebrow in response. Perhaps he was being too subtle. 

“So Erik, ever been with a man? Because I wouldn’t mind boldly going where no man has gone before.” 

“What?” Oh god, Erik looked confused and irritated and it was probably time to abort. He could feel his brain screaming in impotent rage as his body refused to run away into the night to bury his shame in ice cream and science. 

“Are you made of Selenium and Xenon? Because you are SeXe, my friend.” 

Erik looked at him flatly before standing up. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” he said, before walking off, leaving Charles alone in mortified misery, before his brain finally came online and let him run away in red-faced retreat. 

Which brought him to the present, hiding in his sister’s bedroom and groaning into his jeans. And seriously considering escaping through the bedroom window. It was only a five floor drop. What was the worst that could happen?

The door opened, effectively disrupting Charles’s very warranted self-pity. He was going to snap for Raven to leave him to his pathetic self, please, that he really didn’t want to talk about it. When he looked up, though, he realized Erik was slipping into the room, closing the door softly behind him. 

“Here you are,” Erik muttered. He gave Charles a small smile and held out one of the drinks in his hands. “I had wondered where you’d gotten off to.”

Charles looked at the drink like it could explain what exactly was going on. He looked back to Erik, taking in his handsome, handsome face. 

“Erik, what exactly is going on?”

“I thought we were talking.”

“I’m pretty sure I was talking, and doing a poor job of it.” Charles looked away, wincing at himself. Erik looked at him awkwardly for a moment. Awkward silence sat heavily in the room.

“I should go-” Charles started, before Erik cut him off.

“Charles, do you raise chickens for a living?”

“No,” he answered with no small amount of confusion because what? “Whatever gave you that impression?”

Erik looked at him squarely in the eye. “Because you’re definitely raising my cock.”

“Come again?”

“That’s a promise.” Erik stalked towards him, looming over him in a very appealing way. Charles couldn’t keep delighted laughter from bubbling out. He really didn’t want to stop it, either. 

“Hey Erik, if I were an endoplasmic reticulum, do you want me rough or smooth?” Erik sat down, pressing his body next to Charles’s. 

“Hey Charles, it isn’t so much the vector, but the magnitude. And trust me, I know all about forces.“

“I’m sure you do,” Charles whispered against Erik’s lips before pulling him in for a kiss. 

It was time to start an exothermic reaction. Because DAMN, they’re spreading hotness everywhere.


	3. A Family Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The humans are plotting again. But this time, Erik has backup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wee ficlet is in the same universe as [The Hug-A-Drop Bear Program](http://archiveofourown.org/works/990725). If you haven't read that, this may not make much sense. Then again, if you *have* read that this may not make much sense. The gist is, Erik is a Drop Bear, and his husband Charles is a Koala. Wanda and Pietro are their fuzzy wuzzy joeys. 
> 
> Based off [this](http://kageillusionz.tumblr.com/post/67564506679/nightingaleziren-koalas-response-to-being) post by Kageillusionz.

Erik glared at the handsy human petting his beloved Charles. Clearly they had learned his husband’s weakness for belly pets, and were taking advantage of this weakness for nefarious human purposes. Likely they were planning to abduct Charles for fiendish hugging purposes, or to make Erik agreeable to another grooming session. Or worse! The well of human fiendishness had no end.

From his vantage point high in the tree he could just barely make out the wibbling of his husband’s fuzzy-wuzziest of ears. He spared a moment to let his stalwart drop bear heart thrum at his husband’s, the eucalyptus leaf of his soul’s, charming beauty. He made a note to compose an ode or two to Charles, later, when his husband’s safety was assured. 

"Do you see the dirty human tricks?" he quizzed Wanda and Pietro. They were nestled on either side of him, taking in the scene below them.

"Yes, papa," they chimed. So far, their lessons in proper Drop Bear behaviour were going swimmingly. Pietro’s coat was already matted and snarled, and Wanda had taken to following her other father around as fuzzy wuzzy protection. 

Erik felt that he might burst with pride. He’d even fashioned them tiny capes from handkerchiefs stolen from Hank the last time he came to separate Emma, Moira, Ororo, Kitty, and the rest. 

"Now Children, what do we do when dirty humans use their tricks on your sweet, beautiful, naive, fuzzy wuzzy father?" he quizzed. 

"We drop!" they chirped excitedly. They’d not had the opportunity to practice their skills yet, and were nearly vibrating with excitement. Erik suppressed a bearish tear and smiled at his joeys. 

"Exactly," he said as he trained his eyes on the duplicitous human who was making soft cooing sounds at Charles. The unmitigated temerity! 

"On my signal," he murmured. "One….two….three….DROP!"

Wanda and Pietro squealed with joy as they dropped through the air. Erik smiled as he launched himself down. Family bonding was a wonderful thing.


	4. Erik Lehnsherr and the Grave-Robbing Fairy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik's just trying to dumb a body in peace. It would be so much easier if the pretty stranger would get out of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbeta'd, written on two hour's sleep (bless you insomnia), and based on [ this ](http://pangeasplits.tumblr.com/post/89116891664/36-100-photos-of-james-mcavoy-someone) picture.

“Excuse me,” Erik called down rather awkwardly to the unfairly gorgeous man lying before him. “You’re in my grave.”

The man’s calm, smug face only got calmer and smugger. As if Erik was the one in the wrong, here. He’d been the one to dig for a good three hours until he had a suitably grave-esque hole, and only popped off for twenty minutes to grab the body. He’d never read Emily Post but surely, surely he wasn’t the one breaking rules of etiquette. 

“You seem awfully active for someone claiming ownership of a grave,” the man said in an unfairly melodious voice. He dragged his eyes up and down Erik’s body. The weight of the dead nazi seemed heavier under the scrutiny, and his skintight catsuit suddenly felt terribly insufficient to cover Erik’s modesty. Which was half the point, of course, but he’d never encountered stupidly pretty grave-robbers before.

“It’s not for me,” Erik snapped, gesturing with the corpse in his arms. “Obviously.”

“I see nothing obvious,” the man said with a smirk that made Erik feel even more exposed than the catsuit and the previous eye-roving. “After all, Mr. Lehnsherr, you’re in _my_ forest.”

“This isn’t your forest,” Erik replied. He’d done his research, after all. It would be crass to bury a dead nazi on private land, and he’d remember any mention of a rather comely landowner. He was a professional, after all -- _wait, WHAT_ \-- “and how did you know my name?”

His heart started racing, and sweaty palms made keeping a grip on the tarp covering the nazi rather difficult. He’d been set up. That banker in Paris, it had to be. The pretty man in the grave was some sort of nazi assassin and he was in the forest with only his metal shovel to aid him.

_How was the man going to kill him,_ Erik wondered, _with no metal_?

“Simple,” the man answered with a smile. “I’m not. You’re far too interesting to kill so soon. Even if you are in my forest, disrupting my land.”

“Who are you?”

“Names are dangerous things,” the man tsked. The effect was rather lost as the man was still _lounging in Erik’s grave_. “You wear yours so close to the surface, Erik Lehnsherr. But I suppose you can call me Charles.”

“How did you know my name, then, _Charles_?”

“It’s the first thing I found in your mind, my friend. That, and that you’re searching for a man named Shaw, and that you’re not very good at planning. Though that last one is more of an observation. A catsuit in the forest? It does wonders for your figure, darling, but it’s rather conspicuous, don’t you think?”

“So jeans and a blazer is a better combination?” Erik snapped, feeling like he just might be focusing on the wrong thing, here.

That seemed to get a reaction out of Charles. Unfortunately, the reaction was pouting, which was somehow even prettier than smug.

“Nothing wrong with looking nice,” Charles sulked.

“Listen,” Erik tried. “I need to get on with this. Do you think you can get out of my grave so I can bury Herr Wermann?”

“It’s _not_ your grave,” Charles insisted. They were getting nowhere, here. Erik intended to step forward and drop the body besides Charles, but found himself unable to move. Somehow, Charles seemed to suddenly loom over him, voice booming in the too-quiet woods. “You have trespassed on West Chester, and have disturbed my lands. This is a most serious crime, mortal.”

In an instant everything reverted, Charles lying in the grave and Erik breathing heavily. He stepped backwards and lost his grip on the body. It hit the mossy ground with a dull thud. 

“What was that?” Erik asked. Charles slowly stood and stepped towards him, reaching out one hand to gently cup Erik’s cheek. 

“You have your tricks, my friend. I have mine. You meant no harm coming here, I know, but this is Faerie land. It is considered a grievous sin to disturb it.”

“Right,” Erik relied. “If you could just show me the way back, I’ll take my body and leave.” He drew himself to his full height, trying to maintain all the dignity a becatsuitted man struggling to pick up a dead body could muster. 

Charles smiled softly. “Well, the ground’s already disturbed. Might as well make use of it.” 

Erik blinked at the crazy man. Erm, Fariy? Charles prodded gently at his mind until Erik tossed the body into the now-vacated grave. He called the shovel to the dirt pile and started filling the hole. 

“Marvelous,” Charles breathed, watching the shovel levitate back and forth in a semi-hypnotic rhythm. Erik puffed out his chest and tried not to preen. 

“You sure you won’t get in trouble? Desecrating Faerie land and all?”  
Charles chuckled and slapped Erik on the back. Erik’s pulse raced when he realized Charles intended to leave his hand there. “Oh, my friend. I am the Faerie king, after all. I have a say in how we should respond to such….offenses.”

“What do you plan to do?” Erik asked coyly, trying to convey ‘I know we just met and you are possibly a different species but I think that we should totally bone’ without being too forward. Charles obviously caught the thought, if the way his gaze heated was any indication.

“Oh, I think we can come up with some way to make it up to me.” Charles purred, stepping close enough that Erik could see himself reflected in stupidly pretty blue eyes. “In the meantime, it’s only right to respect royalty. On your knees, peasant.”

“Yes, sir,” Erik muttered. This was one suggestion he had no trouble meeting. Charles’ hand fisted in Erik’s hair as Erik felt for the jeans zipper, pulling it down slowly.

****  
Afterward, they lay twined together on top of recently disturbed soil. Erik felt like he should feel wrong about fooling around on top of a fresh grave, but really he just felt tired and content, and a little sore. 

“So, Shaw?” Charles muttered into Erik’s shoulder.

“Whattabout Shaw,” Erik mumbled back.

“Hmmm I figured we could pop out for a look. He’s in….a sub in an ocean in Antarctica, I think. Or he thinks he is. We’ll figure it out.”

“You’re coming with? I thought I was alone,” Erik breathed. Charles smiled up at him.

“Oh, you’re not alone.”

Erik felt something melt inside of him at that warm look and the press certainty Charles sent right to his mind at those words. Time would tell, but for now, at least, there was no harm in trusting what Charles said.

It would be rude, after all, to disrespect the Faerie King on Faerie land.


End file.
